Anariel
by WoodlandOne
Summary: The story of a half elven girl named Anariel. Her heritage, her childhood, her life and service in Greenwood, her service in Rivendell, her love for a marchwarden and her part in the fall of the Shadow.
1. Prologue

The infant exercised the use of her tiny lungs the moment she was released from her mothers body. The elven midwife smiled happily as she cleaned, wrapped and handed the newborn to it's father. The father was tall with a slim build with blonde hair to his shoulders in plaited braids in the fashion of his people, the elves. The mother lay only a few feet away, gazing tiredly but happily at the scene before her. She was human. Though their child was Half-Elven, she would grow slowly as the elves do and grow into the grace and beauty of all her father's kind. He smiled warmly, holding the infant close.

"Tithrandil..."the weakened voice of his wife, Waelith, called.

"Let me see her."

He walked gracefully over to where she lay and placed the baby, who was now silent and gazing wide eyed at the world around her, in her outstretched arms. Waelith kissed the infant girl's forehead and began to whisper an ancient litany that was passed down by the women of her family since the second age. Tithrandil's face changed from joy to worry.

"Waelith?" he called softly.

The mother finished her chant, and ended, saying: "I pass all this to you, as my mother has passed it to me."

She sealed it with a kiss on the her daughter's forehead. The midwife broke in momentarily.

"She will need a name."

Waelith closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she spoke their daughter's name.

"Anariel"

Tithrandil smiled at the name and said "But Waelith, she will have black hair like yours. Why not call her Ithiliel?"

Waelith smiled.

"It matters not the color of her hair. What matters is that she will bring sun's warmth and light into your life"

His worried look returned at her words.

"You will live long enough to see her mature and marry." he said softly, tucking a wayward strand of raven hair behind her rounded ear.

"Tithrandil, my love, the day has come. The day that was when I was born when my mother was born, and so on back to the second age. I am dying." she answered softly, her eyes beginning to close, her breath becoming more silent and shallow.

"Do not hate our daughter for this day. This fault is not hers. She is the savior of our line. Her elven blood with destroy the curse of the women of my family. Love her. She will need you."

Tithrandil held his infant daughter with one arm and reached for his mortal wife's hand with the other. Tears of pain welled up in his bright blue eyes and spilled down his alabaster face in silent rivers. Waelith's eyes also issued the sorrowful rivers. She held his hand tightly and said at length: "I love you both. I will be watching you from the stars."

Her grip loosened and she let out a soft long sigh, and breathed no more.

Anariel began to wail.


	2. First Meeting

Two days had passed. Tithrandil wrapped his daughter in a blanket and brought her to the Palace of Greenwood. As the trade advisor to the Sindarin king Thranduil, he was obliged to inform the king of her birth and to, if necessary, dedicate her to the service of her king be it as a councillor, healer, or simple help of some sort. Wherever her skill took her is what she would be.

Crossing the stone bridge before the doors, he could see Prince Legolas sitting in one of the balconies with a few of his friends and a few female admirers. Tithrandil smiled remembering what it was like to be his age. Legolas had just reached the age of 948. Still young by elven standards, but oddly late for marriage. Legolas had not chosen a bride at fifty or at one hundred, nor did he seem interested, much to his father's dismay. He reached the gates and was admitted by the sentries who spoke the magic words to the great stone doors and they opened. He walked passed the tall ornately carved pillars of the first court, passing other elves, some he knew and some he didn't. He finally arrived at the throne room door and was admitted there with no difficulty as well.

Thranduil sat on his wooden throne, a crown of twined ivy on his head looking over some reports that a scout had brought him earlier. He looked up at the sound of the doors opening and smiled at his trade advisor.

"Well met, Tithrandil my friend!" he said as he rose to hug his friend.

"Well met, my lord. You are in high spirits today."

"Yes." the king smiled. "My son's hunting party returned and here listed is the body count of orcs and spiders from outside the wood. Quite a staggering number today."

Thranduil heard a soft coo and finally looked upon the infant in his trade advisor's arms. A gentle and kind expression filled his face and he reached for the infant. Tithrandil did not begrudge his king the privilege of holding the newborn. Thranduil cradled the infant against his chest, letting it grasp his finger.

"A strong grip! This one has a will to it! What is the child's name?" Thranduil asked.

"Anariel." her father answered.

"Anariel. A beautiful name for sure, but confusing. Her hair is dark."

"My wife chose her name. She meant it more as a metaphor than for her appearance."

"Ah." Thranduil answered as he smiled at the infant girl. His smile was rewarded with a giggle and a smile back. He laughed softly.

"Your wife was not to far off from appearance for your daughter already has a smile that could shame the sun!"

"I have brought her to dedicate to your service should you need her."

Thranduil looked up from the baby's smiling face and regarded the father.

"Always so quick to business." he sighed, but smiled still.

"Well then, what type of training did you have in mind for your daughter? Lady-in-waiting? Scribe? Healer? Councillor?"

"Warrior." Tithrandil replied. The kings brow knit with questioning.

"A warrior? Your child is a daughter, not a son."

"Never the less. I think she would make a fine warrior."

Thranduil sighed. This would be difficult. Once his trade advisor had something in his mind, it was well nigh impossible to talk him out of it. Members of the court could swear that the Silvan advisor and the Sindarin king were brothers separated at birth. One as stubborn as the other.

"Tithrandil. I only accept sons into my military. Daughters are defenders and pillars of the home. If you wish for her to become a healer and so join my forces that way then so be it. But I will not send your daughter up against the horrors that I am reluctant to send my own son against every day!"Thranduil explained .

"She is Silvan! It is in her blood to fight! She will be able to track and hunt just as well if not better than the others. She could be invaluable to you one day!" Tithrandil argued, his tone rising a little with each word.

Thranduil was quickly losing his patience with his advisor. Was he so eager to see his only child die at the hands of orcs or the fangs of spiders?

"Tithrandil, did you not hear a word I have spoken? I will not send your _only daughter_ against the horror outside of these woods or any combat situations for her own sake, Silvan blood in her veins or not!"

Tithrandil placed Anariel-who by this time was beginning to fuss and wriggle uncomfortably at the sound of her father arguing with the king- on the floor a little ways away from the throne so that he could argue his point without having to try and control her squirming. The arguing started again, more insistent and a bit louder than the first time, progressing into a full blown shouting match that could be heard down several hallways. All knew that when king and councillor were at it, it was best to stay away from both until they were tired of butting heads and resolved their argument. Those that heard did just that. Except Legolas.

He could hear the shouting from the balcony on which he sat with now just his friends, as the female admirers had been called away by their mothers, and left them to see what was amiss. As he got closer he could hear and infant screaming along with the fight. Legolas ignored the warnings from members of the court and entered the room to take the infant away for a while so that at least it could be saved from the racket.

He lifted the little one into his arms from off the cold floor and held her close. She stopped crying almost immediately. Thranduil had caught site of his son and turned to him to demand an explanation.

"She was crying." he said, casting an annoyed glare at the pair of arguing elves. He turned and left the room. The arguing resumed shortly thereafter. The baby began to fuss again.

"Ah, shh shh shh little one. We will go somewhere where you can sleep and we both will not have to listen to them." he said smiling gently at her. The infant pouted and still moaned a little. Legolas held her closer to his chest, soothing her. He made a quick stop at the kitchen to get some milk for the baby thinking she was hungry. The queen's sister, a tall and slight blonde elf named Elwen, turned as he entered the room.

"Legolas! How was your hunt today?"

"It went well. Many of our enemies were slain. At this rate they will all be dead before they even get close to the woods." he said as he looked around for anything he could use to feed the young one who was growing fussier by the moment in his arms. Elwen tilted her head to one side.

"Tithrandil's daughter?" she asked.

"She is. He left her laying on that cold floor while he and my father argued. About what I do not know and will not likely want to know."

"He wants his daughter to be a soldier. Your father thinks she would better serve somewhere other than the battlefield." she informed him.

"Either one is good."

"You know your father."

"Yes, I know. He always said that the women of our kind where the four pillars of the house and the only ones who could heal the best and seemed to give the wisest council. But I personally would not mind one who was not afraid to fight. One who wouldn't run with her arms flailing and shrieking like an owl gone mad every time she caught a glimpse of a spider of an orc."

Elwen laughed. "You always had strange tastes, Legolas."

Anariel began to cry again. Elwen drew closer and took the infant into her arms.

"She's hungry and she needs to be changed. I will change her. The feeding skins are over there." she said pointing toward a large closet and left momentarily with the baby.

He filed the skin with fresh warm milk and awaited the return of his aunt and the infant.

_I wonder what her name is,_ he thought. Elwen returned, the infant in seemingly a better mood than when they left. The baby turned as best she could in Elwen's arms and cooed happily upon seeing Legolas.

"You have another female admirer, Legolas!" she laughed. She brought Anariel back to Legolas's arms and he took her close to himself again, almost protectively.

"I had the displeasure of needing to cross the hall near your father's chambers and I over heard her name. Anariel."

Legolas looked down at the feeding elfling in his arms who was looking up at him. He smiled and repeated her name softly to himself. Anariel soon finished drinking and after being properly burped by Elwen, began to yawn.

"I'll take her some place to sleep." Legolas offered.

"Where?" she asked.

"My room." he replied simply.

"Legolas, she's too young." his aunt smirked.

Legolas only made a face and gathered his charge into his arms and brought her to his room. He wrapped his soft green wool cape around the baby and lay her on his bed. He lay beside her, his arm cradling her small body, talking softly to her and singing to her occasionally until Anariel fell asleep. He stroked her face tenderly, gazing adoringly at her.

His heart felt unexplainably warm and light. It also began to ache slightly. He smiled a small smile as he continued to gaze adoringly at the slumbering infant.

Though something deep within him called to this child, he could not put a name to the feeling. He did, however, know then and there that he would do anything he could to protect her. The infant yawned and continued to slumber after she smacked her lips a few times. Legolas's smile widened as he lay his head down next to her and drifted into reverie.


	3. Anariel and the Dwarves

_Sorry this took so long! I was doing research on what dwarven kingdoms were in exsistance during the time of Anariel's childhood. Having found no certain answers, I left some information vague. As for the Elvish, spoken in this part (which I hope to God is accurate) I put numbers after each phrase to map them. BTW the beginning part is in Elvish to show cultural contrast. Origionally, I had the Elves speaking with a double "r" and "l" accent, but it was just a little too confusing._

_(1) "Dad, Dad"_

_(2)"What, my daughter?"_

_(3)"What is this?"_

_(4)"Butterfly"_

_(5)"Anariel, don't run off!"_

_(6)"I won't"_

Five years have passed since that day. Little Anariel has begun to find fascination with the world around her and, as her mortal mother had predicted, brings her father Tithrandil warmth and sunlight. The sun shone brightly above the canopy of leaves and filtered through to the forest floor of Greenwood in shades of green and gold. Anariel and her father were visiting their neighbors. As the adults talked, she wandered around the yard studying the different flowers, watching the ants work, and chasing the patters the sunlight made on the things around her. Upon studying one flower she noticed a small creature with large, deep blue iridescent wings and a small black body. Anariel gently lifted it onto her hand and brought it to her father.

"Ada! Ada!(1)" she called, pulling on the hem of his tunic.

"Man hîn-nín(2)?" he replied, looking to his daughter.

"Man nayes(3)?"she asked, lifting the insect for him to see. He smiled an addressed it by it's name.

"Gwilwileth.(4)"

Anariel looked at the creature and softly repeated the name to herself. The butterfly fluttered off of her hand and into the woods. Anariel laughed and chased after it.

"Anariel, avo visto!(5)" Tithrandil called after her.

"Ú-ava.(6)"she called back as she ran after the insect.

Anariel didn't know how long she had been running until she finally caught the insect in her hands again. She laughed at let it go again, tired of running after it, she turned to go back to her father.

She had gone farther than she thought. Her father was nowhere to be seen and neither were the flets and branch houses of her neighbors.

"Ada?" she called looking around. Surely her father must be hiding on her and would come out from behind a tree and carry her home as he'd always done.

"Ada?" she called again, a little louder than the first time. Still no answer. Anariel began to fear that she would not see her father again.

"Ada!?"she cried out, tears of fear welling in her eyes.

Then she remembered what her father had told her about being lost in Greenwood.

Do not make a sound.

Sit still against a large tree.

Wait to be found.

If you are not found, follow the stars.

Anariel found a tree with large roots that came up from the ground like small walls. Walking around the tree to find a good spot to sit, she saw that some of the roots over time had formed a ring that would be a good place to sleep and wait for help. Inside the ring of roots there was a deep carpet of dark green moss. Anariel wiped her eyes obeying her father's first rule about being lost. She sat down in the circle against the tree. After a while, she began to feel stiff from sitting so still. She lie down and curled up on the bed of moss and drifted into reverie.

Tithrandil paced worried. He and his companions had been searching for his daughter for hours and had found nothing. Tears of fear began to streak down his face, fearing he would not find her at all. He dropped to his knees and began to pray,

"Ilúvatar, Elbereth, Waelith. Please, protect my daughter. Bring her home."

"You are a lousy map reader!" barked one dwarf to the other as he grabbed the map and turned it in a different direction to get a better baring.

"Well if the stars were out, I would have an easier time of finding our way!"

"If you read stars as well as you read maps, I will wait in this Mahal forsaken forest for the sun to rise in the east!"cried a third.

"Will the three of you quite your blubbering! We are in the woods of the Elven King! If he finds us here, we will not have to worry about finding out way out, because either his scouts will kill us or we will have new homes in the dungeons devised by the hands of our fore fathers!" snapped another.

The other two members of the party remained silent. The dwarves, numbering six in all, had been lost in the woods for a day and had no luck in reading their map or finding their way to the Old Forest Road. The sky above was getting darker by the moment with storm clouds and there was no sign of any shelter. While the other dwarves bickered or muttered to themselves about their situation, the sixth, a dwarf named Gorin wandered away from the squabbling and sat down on the ground against a tree. Being a bit heavier than his fellow dwarves, he was sweating from their trek. He reached around to his pack to get his handkerchief when he saw a small form laying against the tree. He quietly moved closer to examine the small form. He let out a cry of dismay seeing the eyes wide open and staring blankly.

"Over here!"he called. The other dwarves came stumbling over to see what was wrong.

Gorin stood by the small figure ringing his cap in his hands.

"I think she's dead." he sniffled.

Trór gingerly stepped over the roots to get a closer look at the child. Moving aside her hair he jumped back in shock. The child had pointed ears.

"It's an Elf!" he cried.

"Did you see anything other than her ears?" Gorin asked.

"I saw no cuts or bruises." Trór answered.

"What is this child doing in the middle of the woods alone?" said one, Dwalin.

"Let's take her back to her people." said Gralin.

"No!" Trór said. "Let's just go and pretend we never saw her!"

"What if she's lost?"Gorin said.

"What if this is a trap?"cried Mîm.

"Even using a child as bait for a trap is too low for the Elven King!"snapped the next, Nori.

"What if she's lost?"Gorin repeated.

The dwarves, who again began to argue about a proper course of action, were so busy doing so that they did not notice the small elven child had woken up.

Anariel woke to the sound of harsh and arguing voices. She quickly scrambled behind the tree and watched the beings on the other side. The were short, not tall like her people, and they had hair growing on their faces which they braided and adorned with beads of copper and gold. They wore clothing of leather and metal tooled with strange patterns and angular designs. Their voices sounded like rocks tumbling down cliffs. Anariel slowly left her hiding place and drew closer to these beings, who she was nearly as tall as. She tilted her head to one side watching them argue. Then she decided to speak.

"Pedich i lam edhelen?"she asked. The were still too busy arguing in their rough native tongue to hear her.

"Pedich i lam edhelen?" she asked again, louder.

The dwarves all stopped and looked at her. She started as wide eyed at them as they at her, her head still tilted to one side.

"Do you speak elvish?" she asked, her Silvan accent heavy as she spoke what little Westron she knew.

The dwarves all gathered together, muttering in their language, trying to decide how to communicate with this elf who spoke yet another language they didn't really know, until Gorin admitted that he could speak well the common language. He was quickly elected as interpreter and sent to answer the question.

"No." answered Gorin. "Do you speak Westron?"

The elven child nodded once. Yes.

"My name is Gorin, son of Thralin." he said slowly, as he bowed so low to the ground that his beard swept it. She smiled at the gesture and placed her hand over her heart and bowed slightly as was her custom.

"Anariel."she said, her small voice softly rolling the last few letters.

Slowly one by one, the dwarves came forward and bowed in like fashion to their companion Gorin, bowing so low their beards gathered dust and Anariel returning her greetings by bowing as she was taught by her people. They all stood still wondering what to do next. Anariel's head snapped up to look at the sky. A roll of thunder sounded seconds after.

"Alagos!" she said. She looked around for a place where her and her new friends could hide from the coming rains. Her elven eyes spotted one many yards away.

"Follow me." she said slowly.

"What's going on?" Gorin questioned.

Anariel pointed to the sky. "Alagos." she repeated.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"Rain."

The rain began to softly patter on the leaves as she brought them closer to the cave. By the time they got inside, it began to pour. The dwarves scooted closer inside and began to check their supplies while Anariel crouched by the mouth of the cave humming an elvish tune softly.

"We have barely any food left except a few last cakes of cram."

"We also don't have any water. Mîm drank it all!"

"I did not!"

Anariel rose from her spot and sat down at the fire the dwarves had built inside the cave. She listened closely to their words, trying to discern one from another. By them constantly gesturing to their water-skins, she realized they were thirsty.

She tugged on Nori's sleeve. He turned around and looked at her.

She pointed towards the small bowls that lay on the ground.

"Do you want these?" he asked and looked to Gorin to translate. Anariel nodded. He gathered up the bowels and handed them to her.

Anariel padded softly back to the entrance of the cave, her arms laden with wooden bowls. She placed them on the ground out side the cave to gather the falling rain. She crouched down again and began to sing out loud an elven nursery rhyme her father had taught her:

_Little elf of the wood_

_gathered all the rain he could_

_to stop the flood from rushing in_

_to save his home from ruin_

_But all the barrels he had filled_

_became too full and had spilled_

_the trees had seen his earnest fight_

_They set his mind with ease aright_

_and offered him shelter in their limbs_

_From the flood to come and other things_

_they said to make his home aloft_

_High above ground in their boughs_

_Thus began the bond ' twix elf and tree_

_It has always been and ever shall be!_

The dwarveslistened to the elvish words roll through the air, all of them still, as if waiting for another song. Anariel checked the bowls and carefully brought two at a time back to them. Anariel smiled brilliantly at them as she took another, larger bowl and set it at the entrance waiting for it too to fill. The large bowl had finished filling and Anariel stooped to pick it up.

"Anariel?" Gorin called to her.

The child stopped in mid movement and turned.

"Let me carry that." he said softly as he drew near to lift the bowl. Anariel sat down at her spot my the cave's entrance. She wondered how her father was.

"We have searched everywhere we could, my lord. There is no sign of Anariel yet."

Thranduil nodded solemnly as he dismissed the soaked guard from the room. Tithrandil had only stopped his pacing when the guard entered and now took it up again, wringing his hands in fear, holding back the tears that threatened to leave his already burning eyes. Thranduil rose from his wooden throne and took the advisor in an embrace.

"She is out there my friend. And she is alright. If they have not found anything yet she must have moved. She has most likely sought shelter in a cave and is sleeping."

"I told her to stay in one place!" Tithrandil cried, his voice trembling with fear.

"We have yet to hear from Legolas's search group. Perhaps he has found something that the others have not."

Legolas and his party had searched for hours for the child. They were soaked and cold but Legolas drove them on in his own fervent search for her.

Rain beat down mercilessly on them, thunder rumbled overhead and the day was growing later.

The storm showed no signs of letting up. The search for the day would have to end soon.

"Do not take any small sign of passing for granted! It could have been hers!" he called behind him.

"My lord! Over here!" called one of the guards. Legolas sprinted over to where the guard stood pointing to the ground. There, in the mud, was the heavy stamp of a footprint, smaller than that of an elf, and that of a man. Legolas crouched to the ground looking for other signs around the print.

Heavy, small-booted prints, that were scattered around the small clearing, were coming in from the west and then leading slightly north east. One set of tracks made earlier followed by five others lead to a tree. The moss inside the ring of roots was slightly disturbed as if the one in it had gotten up in a hurry. Legolas scanned the ground harder and saw in the flashes of heavy drops in one of the footprints a metal object gleaming when the water receded from it. He drew closer and reached into the print to retrieve it. He wiped away the mud that clung to it and made out several intricate, angular designs in a metal bead. His eyes narrowed as he grit his teeth and uttered one word.

"Dwarves."

He stood and marched back to his troops.

"We are returning to the palace to report to my father."

He held up the bead for the others to see.

"We may have more trouble in this than we thought."

"Do you think she's hungry?" Nori asked looking toward the mouth of the cave where Anariel sat staring at the rain outside.

"Anariel." called Gorin. "Come sit by the fire."

Anariel rose from her place by the cave's opening and sat next to Gorin. Mîm passed out the small, hard brownish cakes to his friends and one to Anariel. The dwarves nibbled slowly, the cakes making a hard crunching sound unlike anything Anariel had ever heard. She tried to bite it like her new friends, but her little teeth just wouldn't break it. She tilted her head and examined it for a weakness. Finding an small crack in it she took a rock as big as her little hand would allow comfortably and started to try and break it. The dwarves laughed seeing the little elven girl try to break apart the ration. Gorin laughed and took the small cake and put it in an empty bowl. Water was boiling on the fire in a small tin for the curing of some scrapes they had picked up on their walk. He filled the bowl with a bit of the water and waited until the cram was a soft and warm paste before handing it back to Anariel. She took it and smiled.

"Hannon le."

She scooped it out of the bowl with her fingers and ate it, happy she had something to eat even if it tasted like dirt with honey. After they all ate, the dwarves settled down near their fire and wrapped themselves in their blankets. Surprisingly, it was Trór who gave up his bedding for Anariel. She smiled warmly and hugged him.

"Don't get used to the courtesy, elfling." he muttered in his native tongue. But when no one was looking, Trór's face was a warm smile under his dark and braided beard, as he gazed at the sleeping elven child.

"Dwarves?!" Thranduil thundered. Some of the guards started at the tone. Legolas nodded. He had handed the metal bead to his father the moment he had entered. Tithrandil began to worry more if it was possible.

"And you think they may have Tithrandil's daughter with them?"he said rising from his throne and drawing closer.

"Yes. I have little doubt in my mind, father." Legolas answered.

Tithrandil came forward. "What would they want with her?"

"There is a long standing grievance between my family and the Dwarves. They could think that she is a child of mine, or possibly that wouldn't matter to them. They would hold her until I gave them what they wanted."

Tithrandil didn't look convinced. Thranduil turned to his son.

"Regroup. I want all available guards to go out there and find her before any harm comes to her."

"What of the Dwarves, father?"

"Bring them to me. Dead or alive."

Legolas bowed and left the room, flanked by two sentries.

"The rain has stopped!" called Nori from the mouth of the cave.

Anariel was the first to rise. She watched as the others lazily rose and rolled their beddings up to put on their packs. She folded and rolled hers the same way and handed it to Trór. She smiled and hugged him again. The others chuckled, Trór only muttered under his breath, turning a shade of red under his beard. Anariel ran over to the mouth of the cave and looked back, gesturing excitedly that they should follow her.

"Do you know the way to the road?" Gorin asked.

Anariel nodded. The Dwarves spirits lifted and they followed her, happy at least some one knew where they were and where they were going.

Anariel looked at the sky above her, remembering what her father said about the directions of the sun. She followed the light through the trees. A breeze rustled the branches and the water that clung to the leaves fell on them. It rolled off the dwarven cloaks, but sank into Anariel's little white dress. Mîm was the next to display his kindness to the elfling.

"Here, put this on." he said handing her the cloak. She tilted her head and looked to Gorin for help.

He translated and Anariel nodded her understanding. She put on the cloak and pulled the hood up over her head. She smiled and looked at Gorin.

"Now I look like a Dwarf." she grinned.

"Not really. You are not stout enough." he smiled back.

Anariel giggled.

"Do you think we'll meet any elves along the road- " began Dwalin.

"Let's hope not. They'll see the child, assume the worst and kill us all." Gralin cut in.

"Friendly elves? Maybe we could pass her off to them and they'll give her back to her parents." Dwalin finished.

Gralin stopped and turned to face Dwalin. "You just put two words together that don't belong next to each other in a sentence."

"And that is?"

"_Friendly_ and _elves_."

"The elf girl, Anariel, she's friendly. Seeing her makes me think they can't all be as bad as everyone says." Dwalin said continuing to walk.

"Just one doesn't tell us what the rest of them are like." Gralin said jogging to catch up.

Anariel heard the sound of the birds and smiled she looked up to se where a small red one had landed when she caught sight of an elven sentry. She looked down quickly. She ran to Gorin's side and was about to warn him, when twenty elven sentries dropped from the trees above. They all drew their arrows ready to fire.

Anariel threw off her hood and ran to the front of the line, placing herself between the lead sentry and the dwarves.

"STOP!!" She shouted, throwing her arms out to either side.

"Where have you been? " he trilled back to her, slowly taking his arrow down.

"I got lost in the woods." She said, moving closer to the guard.

"They helped me back." She added, gesturing to her new friends.

The Elven warden looked puzzled for a moment. His fellow archers faltered momentarily in their aim. They began to whisper to one another. A group of Dwarves helped one Elven girl!

What did they want in return?

What were they up to?

What did they tell her?

What if they really helped her with no thought of reward?

Their leader heard the whispers and decided to set the child right.

"Little girl." Started the leader. Anariel grit her teeth. "Dwarves are not, by any means, friends of Elves, or any one for that matter, not even themselves!"

Gorin and his party wanted to charge forward and argue, but a quick glance and a sharp gesture from Anariel told them to stay behind her.

"My father told me that no one is bad, even Dwarves."

"Your father is wrong." the sentry countered firmly, growing impatient with the child's obstinance.

"Maybe your father never taught you any better!"she shouted back, her arms strait down at her sides, little fists clenched to white.

The sentry had enough of Anariel's stubbornness.

"Take the Dwarves to the King!" he shouted. He grabbed Anariel by her wrist and began to roughly drag her away. A few of the Dwarves wanted to rush to her aid. Anariel twisted in the sentry's grasp to see her friends.

"Gorin! Mîm! Nori!"she began to call out. Trór rushed forward to try to pull Anariel from the sentry's grasp. Another elven sentry knocked him to the ground and drew his blade.

"NO!" Anariel screamed, kicking her captor's shin as hard as she could. The Lead sentry let go to favor his injury and she ran to Trór's aid just in time to stop the dagger.

"ELF FRIENDS!" she cried out, unflinching at the dagger that now hovered in front of her face.

All stopped in shock to stare at the young girl, who now glared down those who sought to hurt her friends.

"ELF FRIENDS!!" She cried out again, going to each dwarf and repeating her cry.

Amidst all the commotion of mumbling elves and dumbstruck dwarves, another cry rose in the distance.

"ANARIEL!"

Anariel's face lit up.

"FATHER!!!!"

"ANARIEL!!!" Tithrandil cried, tears streaming down his face and he ran toward his daughter. Anariel ran to him and he lifted her into his arms, holding her close and kissing her forehead, praising all the Valar for her return.

"Father, do not let them hurt my friends." she begged. Tithrandil was shocked.

"They did not hurt you?"

"No. They helped me get home and they kept me safe."

Tithrandil placed his daughter on the ground and held her hand as he walked over to the dwarves.

"Who is the leader of this group?" he asked. Gorin moved to the front.

"I am." He said, bowing low in front of the much taller Elf.

"You and your kin saved my daughter. For that, I am indebted to you. How do you wish to be repaid?" Tithrandil asked.

The group of dwarves spoke to one another for a moment. At length, Gorin stepped forth with his cap in his hands and he bowed again before Tithrandil.

"The only thing we ask of you is to point us to the road that we must take to get to the mountains on the other side of your forest. Our King seeks to expand his realm and we were sent to look to the mountains for a new home. We were driven into the woods of the Elven King under cover of night by fell beasts."

Some of the elves muttered among themselves at this news.

Tithrandil only nodded. Anariel looked up at him, waiting to see what her father's judgement would be.

"I will lead you as far as our northernmost border, but from there I must turn back and stand for my actions to my king."

He could see the looks of apprehension and unbelief from the elven sentries.

"I name you all Elf Friends, for the rescue of my daughter. You are safe to pass through these woods."

Tithrandil took the necklace from around his neck which looked as though it were a vine of clear green leaves and snapped the chain holding it together. The Dwarves seemed to flinch collectively as they watched the Elven lord dismantle such a finely wrought necklace of precious stone. He handed each one of them a single jade leaf.

"Wear these about your necks to show all as you pass that you are Elf Friends and have right to pass. Pass them to your children should you see fit to do so."

With these words, Tithrandil signaled to the two sentries that came with him. Together, they led the Dwarves as far as the had promised and turned back.

Tithrandil's return to Greenwood was marked by another shouting match with Thranduil. Anariel hated the sound of her father arguing with their king who she sometimes referred to as her uncle. Anariel had ran away from the throne room when their voices started to raise. She ran to Legolas's room, hoping he was there to comfort her. Not finding him, she crawled under the bed to hide and cover her ears, though it seemed she couldn't escape the sound. She lie down on the cold floor and fell asleep crying. She was sleeping so deeply she didn't hear the door open, or the soft footsteps of leather boots moving toward the bed she lay under.

Legolas peered under his bed, seeing Anariel curled into a tight ball, hands over her little ears. His heart ached seeing the pain in her face. He gently pulled her out from under the bed and placed her under the covers of his. He gently stroked her hair.

"You frightened us all." He said softly. Anariel's only answer was to snuggle deeper into the pillow her head was against.

"I was terrified that we would lose you." He confessed to the sleeping child, tears welling up in his eyes. He leaned closer and gently kissed her forehead.

"Sleep well, little one." He said softly, as he left the room.


	4. The Grave of Waelith

Only a year passed since that day. The day was bright and early and all around the soft patter of the night's rain that had clung to the leaves falling to the ground filled the air, mingled with the chirping of birds. Anariel sat on the ground outside their small hut, making a chain of flowers as one of the ladies of Thranduil's court had taught her. Today, she and her father would go, for the first time, to the grave of her mother, Waelith.

Tithrandil held Anariel's hand the whole of the way there, his heart in turmoil.

How would he tell his daughter that her mother lay in the cold earth beneath their feet?

How would he explain to her what happened concerning her birth?

Anariel skipped beside her father, her small chain of woodland flowers swinging in her hands. She looked around her taking in the sounds of the breeze through the branches, listening for the calls of birds, or even of the trees themselves. She looked up at her father and saw the saddened and worried expression on his face. She wondered why her father wore white and blue with a silver circlet this day, and why she too was dressed as they would be as if it were the Festival of Butterflies. Tithrandil looked down and her and tenderly squeezed her hand and tried to giver her a reassuring smile. When he raised his head again, what was a small attempt at a smile faded into sorrow. Silent tears streaked down his face. He gently pushed Anariel to the stone statue before them. The statue was of a bare-headed woman with long, un-plaited hair. She was dressed in a long gown with fitted sleeves and a cloak, her arms open as if to give a traveler that passed by a warm embrace. In the clearing with the statue grew _simbelmyn_ in great abundance as if someone had tended a garden of them.

"Look, Father! A pretty stone lady!" Anariel said. Tithrandil smiled weakly.

"Who is she, Father?" she asked, seeing her father's tears.

"Read the stone." he said softly.

Anariel knelt down on the ground and wiped away the dirt from the writing. She read it out loud

"Here lies Waelith, a healer of Rohan. ' My child is born. The curse of my line is broken.'"

"You are her child, Anariel. This is your mother." Tithrandil said at last. He could no longer hold back his tears. He fell to his knees and silently cried. Anariel turned to her father and held him. A gentle breeze again filled the air, this time, warmer than the last; warm with the promise of a good summer.

On that breeze, Anariel could hear a voice.

A woman's voice.

_Anariel._

Anariel looked around to see who was calling her. She let go of her father and moved closer to the statue and heard the voice again, and gentle call.

_Anariel._

She had heard stories from the other elven children of the court about the souls of the race of men; how they would stay on earth until they had accomplished some business that was left unfinished. She was not afraid of this soul that she heard on the wind. Anariel moved closer to the stone and hugged the part that was the stone woman just above the pedestal as best she could.

"Mother." she whispered.

Suddenly, she felt a warmth around her, as if someone was embracing her. She turned to see a woman with fair skin and long black hair, her gown was simple and white, an exact copy of the one the statue was wearing. Her dark brown eyes looked into Anariel's, and she smiled warmly. Anariel offered her small chain of flowers to her. The woman, who Anariel knew now was her mother, Waelith, took the flowers and placed them about her neck. She knelt down on the ground in front of her daughter and kissed her forehead. Anariel closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she saw nothing, but heard her mother's voice on the air.

_I love you, my daughter. I will be with you always._

Tithrandil, his heart aching with longing, looked toward the likeness of his wife to see Anariel looking up at it from where she stood, her head tilted to one side, as if listening. She turned to her father and leaned against the stone.

"Father, Mother says not to be sad. And she says she loves you."

After a few moments of silence in shock, staring alternately between his daughter and the stone figure of his wife, Tithrandil heard the same voice on the wind that Anariel had, alone, earlier heard.

_I love you Tithrandil, my dove_.

Tears of joy fell from his eyes as he rose from his place on the ground. He took Anariel's hand and they turned to walk back to their home.

Around the neck of the statue, the chain of flowers swayed gently in the warming breeze.


	5. Of Glorfindel and Butterfly

_I admit that this is a filler chapter. This is one of the last chapters I will do like this because after this point, Anariel's life gets complicated._

"All that I am suggesting, my lord, is that the dwarves of Erebor and Moria may have had a change of heart in their following generations. It may be possible to traffic with them again." Tithrandil said, following Thranduil across the room.

Anariel sat on the floor of the room, making chains and crowns out of the flowers she picked on the way to the palace. She looked up as they swept by her. She turned her little face down to her handiwork and began to fashion another chain.

"Tithrandil, how many times must I tell you that I have no great desire or interest trading anything with the dwarves for anything else. We have everything we need already. The forest provides for us."

"The forest does not provide mithril for stronger weapons." Tithrandil supplied.

"Mithril swords are too light. Though they would be nigh unbreakable, the soldier wielding it would have no built strength from training with it to fend off a blow." Thranduil answered.

He continued after a moment.

" Not to mention the sword would be unbalanced. Would you then suggest we hollow out the handles of the swords to compensate for lost balance in the blade?" Thranduil asked.

"Orc swords are heavy, father." she said.

"How do you know this, daughter?" Tithrandil asked, slightly amused.

"Prince Legolas told me."she said.

"They are heavier, Anariel." Thranduil said softly. "Which is why our blades need to stay as they are."

He turned back to Tithrandil and added "What makes you think the dwarves would readily give up this precious metal to the elves? They would not. They would ask us to either trade or pay more than we can readily give."

While her father and the King were talking, Legolas came into the room. Anariel turned to the door.

"Legolas!" She cried running to him. The prince laughed and lifted Anariel into his arms.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, smiling.

Anariel nodded.

He turned to his father and Tithrandil and greeted them both.

"Can we go play now?" she asked. Legolas smiled "I do not see a reason why we can not. Ask your father."

"Father can we play?" she asked hopefully.

"If Legolas is willing and if the King has no quarrel with it."

"I have none!" Thranduil said smiling, "save only that I receive a hug in return for the borrowing of my son."

Legolas let Anariel run to his father and watched laughing as Thranduil swept her up in a hug as he used to when he was young. Upon putting her down, Anariel hugged her father and then ran back to Legolas's side. He took her hand and shut the door.

"Where shall we go today?" he asked.

"To my mother. I made these for her." she said, lifting her carefully wrought chains of Evermind.

Legolas smiled warmly, but inside his heart ached. He knew of Waelith and her suffering and it pained him to see her grave, but he knew Anariel delighted in playing in the presence of that statue saying that her mother was there and that she had heard and seen her. He found it difficult to believe, but it was not unheard of for the dead ones of the race of men to linger for a while before they moved on. He lead her to the spot she wished to see.

Upon seeing the statue, Anariel let go of Legolas's hand and ran to it, greeting it and talking to it, saying that she brought Legolas to play with and that she had gifts for her. Anariel placed them as far up as she could reach on one of the statues hands.

"Would you not rather have me lift you up so you can place them on her neck?" Legolas asked.

"No." Anariel said. "Mother will put them on when she wants to."

Legolas looked to the statue, expecting it to move and place the garlands where it felt they should be. He turned his gaze again to Anariel. She too was staring at the statue, as if listening. Still gazing at the calm figure of her mother, the elfling asked a strange question:

"What would you call me?"

Legolas tilted his head. Anariel looked at him then, the question held in her large, dark eyes.

Legolas sat down on the ground, resting his back against a large beech tree. He opened his arms to Anariel and she followed, sitting on his lap.

"Why do you ask me this?" he said.

"I want to know what you would call me."

"A game?" he asked, smiling now. In return, he received a grin from the small child.

"Tell what you would call me first, then I shall name you." he said.

Anariel pouted in concentration, trying to think of a name for her Prince, as he requested. She thought of all the stories of brave elves her father told her. She studied his face, thinking of all these stories until one name came into her mind.

"Glorfindel." she answered, smiling.

"Glorfindel? Why this name?" Legolas asked.

"Because, he is strong and brave. Father said he faced a Balrog and he wasn't afraid."

"What makes you think I would not be afraid?" Legolas asked turning Anariel around to face him.

Legolas refrained from telling Anariel exactly what he had read and heard a Balrog was thinking it best not to plague the child's waking dreams with images of towering, fiery demons.

"Because Thoroncar tells me what you are like in battle and he says you are afraid of nothing."

Thoroncar, Legolas's best friend and confidant, was bragging of him to the little one again.

Legolas only smiled and said "You are right, I fear nothing!"

"My turn! My turn!" Anariel cried, bouncing enthusiastically.

"Alright." Legolas said as he thought for a moment. He wanted to give her a name that was not only to her liking, but would be symbolic as well. Something caught Legolas's attention across the glade. A large, blue butterfly hovered and dived over the Everminds and when done there began to flutter over to them. He watched the insect landed on the tip of Anariel's ear.

"Butterfly." he answered.

Anariel tilted her head waiting for an explanation.

"Because like this little one," he started, gently lifting the insect off of her ear. "You take interest in all around you. This and you are beautiful, not unlike this creature here."

Anariel giggled. She gently blew under the butterfly's wings.

It took to flight, leaving the two to their games of dancing and hiding.


End file.
